(The forthcoming book: From the Principal’s Desk – A Journey of Lessons)
Dr Arun Prakash
Let’s start with a simple confession. If passion alone could guarantee success, half of my classmates would’ve ended up as cricketers, film stars, or—in one particularly colorful case—a spy. Yes, you heard me right. I had a relative who devoured every detective novel he could find. For a while, he even walked around with a magnifying glass and spoke in code words. This was the 1970s, mind you—before James Bond had properly invaded Indian living rooms. His dream? To be India’s top secret agent. The problem? He never once got up before 10 a.m., couldn’t remember anyone’s birthday (let alone classified secrets), and was more interested in pretending than preparing.
And yet, isn’t that how many dreams begin? As messy, unshaped inklings of something exciting?
This chapter is not just about finding passion. It’s about understanding, nurturing, questioning, and sometimes redefining it. Because the road from “I like this” to “This is my calling” is long and winding, with plenty of confusing detours.
The Myth of the Born Genius
First things first—let’s bust a myth that trips up many parents (and quite a few educators too): The myth that every child is born with a single, perfect passion just waiting to be discovered like a buried treasure.
No, children are not vending machines with pre-installed career options. Many kids try on interests like new shoes—sometimes they fit, sometimes they pinch, and often they’re discarded the next day for something shinier.
A child may love painting one month, decide they’re the next Zuckerberg after watching a coding video, and then declare their lifelong goal is to become a stand-up comedian after one school skit gets a laugh. That’s not confusion. That’s exploration. That’s development.
The problem arises when adults—parents, grandparents, uncles, aunties, neighbors, tuition teachers—jump in too early with declarations like, “Yeh toh engineer banega” or “Dekhna, yeh toh IAS nikalega.” Sometimes the child hasn’t even started school yet.
Passion with a Plan—or Just Pipe Dreams?
And yet, we must acknowledge the other side. Passion without discipline can be just another word for daydreaming. Like my wannabe spy relative—he had passion, no doubt. But he lacked follow-through. Passion alone doesn’t wake you up early, put in the hours of practice, or face rejection with courage. For that, you need purpose. And turning passion into purpose takes effort—lots of it.
I have met countless young people—brilliant minds—who love something dearly but have never pushed themselves to go beyond “liking it.” They want to be writers but haven’t finished a single short story. They want to act but haven’t attended a single workshop. Wanting is easy. Working for it—that’s the real test.
So when we speak of nurturing a child’s interests, we’re not talking about indulging every whim. We’re talking about serious curiosity—the kind that sticks around even when things get tough.
The Tragedy of Imposed Dreams
Now let me take you into the story I mentioned earlier—one that’s stayed with me for years. It’s about a friend’s maternal uncle, whom I knew well. His father—my friend’s grandfather—was a towering figure in the legal world. He had such a commanding presence in court that sometimes, I’m told, his mere appearance tilted the case in his favor. A man of discipline, pride, and a mountain of expectations.
Naturally, he wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, to carry the legal legacy forward—maybe even reach the Supreme Court. A noble dream, yes. But not the son’s dream.
Mamaji, as we called him, was born with rhythm in his soul. He could make the tabla sing. But his father? He wouldn’t even let him tap a spoon on a plate. Music, in his view, was a distraction, not a destiny.
So what happened? Mamaji was forced to quit music and study law. He grumbled. He protested. He cried. But the home was ruled by a patriarchal code—the father’s word was final.
He earned his law degree all right. But he also made a secret promise: “I will never practice law.” And he never did. Worse, he never returned to music either. He drifted. He grew older, but never quite grew up. A brilliant, sensitive man who was denied his path and never quite found another. A life, in many ways, wasted—not because he lacked talent, but because he was denied the chance to honor it.
A Very Indian Context
This story is not unique. In India, especially, patriarchal dominance has shaped many destinies. A father’s dream becomes the child’s duty. The family name, the caste legacy, the business empire—often, these take precedence over the child’s desires.
But things are changing.
Today’s generation of parents, especially mothers, are more open, more empathetic. But even now, the pressure to conform—to become a doctor, engineer, civil servant, or something that “sounds respectable”—still hangs in the air like incense in an old temple.
And let’s not forget societal pressures. “Sharma ji ka beta” syndrome is alive and well. If Sharma ji’s son is taking IIT coaching from class 6, how dare our child waste time on… painting?
Next: Why Extracurriculars Matter